There's Something In the Air...

Yippee, it's December!

There seems to be a switch in my brain that makes the kid in me go oh-so-excited once December comes around. 

December means Christmas.  Simbang Gabi.  Piping-hot bibingka and buttery puto bumbong.  Yuletide carols that bring to mind a more innocent time (no, it is simply NOT the same having to listen to these ear-splitting songs blaring over the sound systems in malls!).

Nippy evenings that invite you into taking a relaxed stroll outside.  Dewy mornings that seem to bring promises of fresh starts.  Reconnecting with family members and last-seen-a-few-months/years-back relatives, all the while munching on holiday goodies that everybody has brought to share.

Gifts, gifts, and gifts! Thinking of what to give family and friends, and making endless lists (for me half the fun is in making them!).  Doing the rounds of countless bazaars, just taking a peek at all the gaily decorated thingamajigs that seem to beckon (oftentimes successfully) you into taking a second glance.. and a third... Wrapping gifts with brightly colored paper and ribbons.  And putting them under the Christmas tree.  And the fun part -- yes, even for adults -- receiving and opening presents!  

For me, the time for setting up the Christmas tree is right after All Saints' and All Souls' Days.  That's my mental marker.  After the somber mood and time of reflection during the early days of November, the stage is now set for merrymaking and laughter, for counting one's blessings and giving thanks.  Then it's time to take out the tree and star and boxes of lights and balls and garlands from the storage closet and start erecting that ubiquitous symbol of the season.

Our Christmas tree has been put up, just waiting for the presents to be placed underneath it.  My older daughter helped me, and she was so excited!  She wanted to put brightly-hued balls all over the tree, while I wanted it to have just gold ornaments this time.  We compromised -- I promised to hang the other colored balls around the house, as long as the tree was left in its monochromatic glory, haha!  She has also always been the one to put the star as a finishing touch -- quite a joyful experience for her every time.

 

Our little Christmas manger scene has also been set out. I like to turn the living room lights down low during evenings, turn on the lights, and just sit back with my husband and enjoy the soft, warm glow that watching the twinklers gives me.  It makes me feel that somehow, in that little pocket of time, everything is at peace in my world. It makes me thankful.  It makes me feel.. blessed.

It may sound naive to some, that I still hold a feeling of wonder whenever Christmas comes around, esp. in this day and age when life is so fast-paced and modern and diverse. Christmas just brings me hope that there is still a lot of goodness in the world.

This is what I would like my daughters to believe. This is what I hope they will remember when it is their turn to set up their own Christmas trees with their own families.  

It must really be something in the air -- I feel so hopeful and lighthearted, grateful and at peace. What I would give to have this feeling stay on even after the holidays!

Happy holidays everyone!

Learning from the Negotiation Masters

I've always believed that children are natural masters at negotiation and manipulation.  The statement "She had Daddy wrapped around her little finger" packs more truth than we realize.  How many times has the little one asked for another toy or book that you did not plan on buying, but after disarming you with her cuteness and other tactics, you end up capitulating anyway?

I wonder if it's a skill that is genetically hardwired into each one of us, that is then subsequently lost as one grows up due to social unacceptability of some of these behaviours.  You know, Nature vs. Nurture.

A book I read echoed this idea.  The title first caught my fancy -- How to Negotiate LIke a Child: Unleash the Little Monster Within.  It's a tongue-in-cheek take on some negotiating techniques that at first glance one would not associate with adults, but are surprisingly effective when wielded by kids.  Upon closer reflection however, it appears that we may actually be using variations of these at one time or another!

Some of the things I found striking:

• Throw a tantrum and cry.  We've all seen the toddler who screamed his head off at the toy shop when told that Daddy and Mommy would not buy him another Thomas the Tank Engine train, or the little girl who lay sprawled on the living room floor bawling because she was not allowed to watch another Sesame Street video?  After the accusatory looks in the shop and the neighbour's complaints, who do you think won?  The power of a well-placed tantrum in the workplace could swing things one's way, but it has to be planned for and timed very, very well.  One can also exploit the very human tendency to side with the underdog.  Sometimes, he who screams loudest, gets heard -- but if overused, one becomes just another troublemaker or crybaby.
• Pretend you don't hear or understand what the other is saying.  Grown-ups are primed to respond to verbal or even electronic cues, and oftentimes one is put on the spot trying to come up with a coherent answer to something one is not knowledgeable of nor ready for.  Children have no such compunction; they do not respond if they do not feel like it -- a delaying tactic that gives one the time to regroup and gather one's thoughts.
• Play your best game and change the rules.  How to tackle a situation where one is at a disadavantage?  Countless kids do this instinctively -- they just change the rules of the game to something they have greater chances of winning!  Quite logical, if you think about it.  As long as it is within the bounds of ethics and propriety, why not try to move the negotiating lines towards your benefit?
• Ask the person who is most likely to say "Yes".  A little boy wants to have his fourth chocolate cookie after dinner.  He knows that Mom will not allow him another sugar-filled treat.  But there is another person in the house who has the power to grant him his wish, one who the little boy knows will be more inclined to acquiesce.  "Dad, may I please have another cookie?"  In the end, the little boy grabs the cookie triumphantly, simply because he asked the right person with the right level of authority. 
• Play one side against the other.  "No, you are not allowed to watch another cartoon video." "But Mom said I could." "Really? Ok, then."  Knowing when to play one side against the other is a talent that is most useful, if one can find the appropriate champion.  If done properly, the desired outcome can be achieved with minimum effort. 
• Keep coming back to the same question.  In negotiations or management discussions, does a "No" the first time automatically translate to another "No" an hour, a day, a week hence?  Not necessarily!  Children are quite persistent in asking for what they want.  They can wear parents down with their relentless questions, hour after hour after hour.  In the end, the prize becomes theirs for the taking.
• Don't fear failure.  As one matures, the fear of failure seems to grow proportionally as well.  But kids don't care if they fail this time; they just try again.  And again.  And again.  No guts, no glory, right?

I quite enjoyed reading the book, which was a refreshing change from the more serious management books out there.

Maybe I can also learn to unleash the little monster within.

The Weekend is Here!

The weekend is here!       

That has got to be the mantra of those who look forward to some R&R after a gruelling  week in the workplace.  One does not even need to wait for Saturday to officially come -- once the work is laid to rest on Friday, then it's the weekend!  I think that Fridays are days where working people are most upbeat, simply because after being frazzled for four days, this last day gives them something to look forward to, and pressures and deadlines can now be taken with a spoonful of sugar.

Right now the whole house is quiet, everyone else is still abed. Hmm, what to do, what to do in this little two-day pocket of "work-less-ness"?

I want to write -- which is what I am doing now anyway.  Somebody once said that to be a writer meant practicing one's craft diligently.  Would that I could have that discipline!  But then what would I write about?  Anything that catches my fancy, even stream-of-consciousness style writing would be a good way to flex these brain cells.

Maybe I should bake?  I find baking a therapeutic task.  Immersing oneself in the moment of mixing and combining all these disparate ingredients, allowing chemistry and heat transfer to do their magic (the chemical engineer in me could not resist putting these in, haha!), then put in some artistic finishing touches, and voila!  Something tangible, something yummy! 

Or put up the Christmas tree and other Yuletide trimmings around the house.  Halloween is over now, and I think I'm actually late already by Filipino standards.  My five year-old has been counting down the days to Christmas, and has been barraging me with questions as  to when the tree would be up and whether she could decide the decor arrangements.  I told her she could tell me her plans and I would give the final go-ahead.  Ha!  I smack of management-speak now!

The fine weather is holding, so maybe I should also go out and walk around with the baby in tow.  We've lately seen some interesting birds visiting our yard and the golf course in our residential area: what looked to be white spoonbills and blue swifts, apart from the occasional crow and the ubiquitous brown maya.  We've also tried to grow some fruits and veggies in the backyard, and the papaya trees are bearing fruit -- lots of it!  Amateur naturalism gives the little ones a chance to learn and appreciate the things around them.

Of course I can always go grocery-shopping, what with an SM mall just ten minutes away.  I can just hear the Christmas carols already being played over the airwaves and broadcast full-blast over the mall's sound system. Not a very enticing thought though.  Just thinking about the crowds that are surely doing their early Christmas shopping is enough to make me think twice about it.

We could go on a road trip, just driving around with no particular destination in mind, and just see where our fancy takes us, and absorb the scenery that we normally take for granted during time-driven trips. This, however, is not an option right now, as both hubby and I are on-call at the plant this weekend.  Thankfully we do not have to go to the office so we can at least rest at home.

I could pick and choose from all of these and more, and hope that the end result is the same: that I come out of it energized and ready to face another week.  Until the next Friday comes again.

Melancholy Comes From Two Front Teeth

Two front teeth?  Why the heck should they bring about melancholy, you ask.

My 6-month old daughter now has two teeth, her lower middle two front teeth, to be exact.  And though seeing them made me feel proud and happy that she is developing well, that she is on her way to becoming a toddler soon, at the same time it made me sad.

Her two front teeth for me represent the beginning of her steps to independence.  She can now start to chew semi-solids.  Eventually she will graduate to eating crunchier (and hopefully still healthy) stuff.  Then she will move on to thinking for herself and moving independently -- crawling, standing, toddling along, then on to full blown walking and running.

And before I know it she will be grown up.

The logical part of my brain tells me that this is not yet to come for several years more.  However, the mothering part of me can't help but feel melancholic at this.  Of course, nobody wants their children to be fully dependent on them forever.  Everybody wants their children to grow up the best at anything and everything.

I guess what I'm trying to drive at here is that when my kids are all grown up, I will pine for the days when they were young and innocent and carefree.  When Mama and Papa could solve almost everything for them.  When their world was simple and uncomplicated.

I cannot prevent the cares of the world from being part of my daugters' lives, anymore than I can stop the passage of time.  I can just cherish the moments when they are still small and look at me with shining eyes and want to be with me always.

Time will come when they will have their own wings and soar on their own.

Until then though, I will count my blessings and be thankful.  My little girl's songs and dances and artwork.  My baby's gurgles and laughter, even as her two front teeth make me both happy and sad.

How Does One Begin to Rebuild a Life?

How does one begin to rebuild a life?

I will not even presume to know how difficult and heart-wrenching it is going to be. In the aftermath of Ondoy -- when Mother Nature unleashed her fury with torrential rains battering the Philippines and sweeping away everything in ther path -- the process of cleaning up, sorting, throwing away, rebuilding, coming to terms, must now begin. 

People have been saying that Ondoy was a great equalizer, as no distinctions were made between the well-off and those who lived hand-to-mouth. Shanties were washed off, but concrete houses were fully submerged. Dependable and sturdy 4-wheel drives were no match for the raging currents, and so people could be seen riding makeshift rafts, boats and even basins. Retaining walls collapsed over houses and people, appliances floated away from owners, people hanging on to anything for dear life. No discrimination was made.

It seemed as if there was no escape from this force of nature. Ondoy has given that oft-used phrase a new meaning. Force. Of. Nature.

Force. The massive volume of water that fell down from the skies in 6 hours were the equivalent of 1 month's worth of rain. Imagine how the drainage systems would hold up (they didn't), the suddennness with which dam breach levels were reached (extremely fast, causing dam gates to be opened to release the pressure, contributing even more to the floods), the quickly rising floodwaters taking everyone by surprise and submerging whole houses, fast-flowing waters just sweeping everything in its path.

Nature. People who have not directly experienced a calamity brought about by Nature may not fully appreciate the devastation and hopelessness that it can bring. Modern technology and conveniences may have convinced some that we have come close to predicting and harnessing the power of Nature. But still everyone was caught by surprise.

Internationally known architect and urban planner Felino Palafox, Jr. has said that "government agencies and private developers are jointly liable for the massive loss of life and property in several Metro Manila cities for practicing poor urban planning and allowing commercial and residential structures to be built in flood-prone areas" such as the Marikina Valley, the western shores of Laguna de Bay, and the Manila Bay coastal area, as these have already been identified in a 1977 study funded by the World Bank as being prone to flooding and earthquakes.

Where was proper planning and zoning here indeed? What special precautions were built into the residential and commercial development plans for these areas? Were people adequately warned and made ware of the risks inherent in building their abodes in these places? Has the government provided funding to address these risks?

Crucial questions that need concrete and crucial answers.

Ondoy has brought untold grief to the country, but there are precious moments shining through all of these as well. Countless people have given freely of their time and resources in contributing to the relief efforts. Unsung heroes have bravely plunged into the waters to save people they did not even know. Filipinos have banded together to help fellow countrymen in need.

Bayanihan at its finest.

I have been lucky enough to escape being directly hit by Ondoy. Although there was no electricity for some time in my parents' house, this was a relatively minor inconvenience, and thankfully they were not flooded inside the house. My in-laws' house was not so lucky though, as floodwaters reached the ground floor of their home. Vehicles stood in floodwaters for some time, some appliances floated, some belongings completely submerged, but otherwise they came through unscathed.

Some relatives and friends were not so fortunate though. Whole villages and houses went underwater, forcing people to clamber up to their roofs in an effort to stay clear of the water until rescuers came. Some had to stay in other houses with upper floors just to stay safe. Vehicles were rendered unusable. Treasured books and keepsakes were soaked through and through. Furniture and wood panelling cracked. Pets and appliances and belongings floated away, to be deposited who-knows-where, never to be seen again.

Although I did not directly know anybody who was swept away by the floods or worse, trapped or drowned, but my heart breaks every time I see footages of people who are now displaced, looking for loved ones amidst the debris, becoming shell-shocked at what now awaited them, some of them not expecting it at all as they were relatively well-off for a start. The great equalizer indeed.

An aunt told me that physically they were okay, that they were safe and nobody got hurt during the time that Ondoy was pouring tons of rain on the metropolis. They were emotionally scarred though, and that can take a longer time to heal. The destruction wreaked by the storm has left countless people reeling.

How does one begin to rebuild a life that has been broken, forever changed by this event?

Sorting through the debris and looking at what can still be salvaged can be a very emotionally draining activity. Searching for lost loved ones even more devastating. It has to be done, even if the future now seems more uncertain than it ever has been.

In the end, one can only do it the best way he can, with faith and with hope.

One day at a time.

The Choices We Make

Last week I finished reading a book entitled "Mommy Wars". Nope, it was not a chick-lit novel chronicling the mommy competitions that go on in cities and suburbs around the world. It was a collection of essays from real-life moms who are on different sides of the dividing line between SAHMs (stay-at-home-moms) and working mothers, and those who straddle that line -- the part-time workers or the work-from-home moms.

This has always been the age-old dilemma: to work or not to work? To pursue interests outside the home, or to devote oneself full-time to being a mother who's always there?

The competition between mothers is one of the fiercest, and subtlest, ones there is. Who gets to raise the "best" kids takes the cake and eats it -- but if one happens to bring home the bacon as well, then isn't it that much more fulfilling? Having a high-flying career is such an impressive achievement, esp. for a woman with a family -- but isn't raising one's kids full-time a serious and noteworthy feat as well?

In schoolyards and neighborhoods worldwide, there is always pressure to be "perfect" mom. More often than not, this icon of perfection is taken to be the stay-at-home mom, the one who is always there at the end of the day, waiting by the door with a big smile, and one who can:

• bake the yummiest brownies and cakes from scratch, with perfect little fondant toppings on top
• hand-sew the little one's Halloween costumes, using real feathers and sequins and whatnot
• welcome the kids with a glass of milk and a plate of cookies when they come home
• know all of the children's classmates and teachers by heart
• actively participate in all school activities like coordinating the closing programs, or chaperoning the class on a field trip
• drive the kids to school in the family van and fetch them back again in the afternoon
• keep a Stepford-Wives-worthy home and still be fit and attractive to boot.

In truth however, SAHMs may just as be likely to give the kids store-bought cupcakes, chips and soda, as anybody else. Dozens of Halloween costumes can be bought anywhere, so why tire yourself out needlessly? School bus service is available to ferry the kids to school and back, and attendance to school activities is tiring enough without having to devote numerous days arranging them as well. And SAHMs have numerous interests as well, but may not have the opportunity, time, energy, or resources to pursue them.

As for the working mothers out there, there is no small amount of pride in being able to juggle a demanding profession with motherhood. Doctors, engineers, lawyers, architects, writers -- there will always be females in these fields who choose to return to work full-time after giving birth. Are they to be taken as less-than-perfect then, for choosing to nurture their professions in parallel with nurturing their brood? Although working moms -- full-timers or part-timers -- may seem to exemplify "having it all", there may still be a nagging feeling of being... conflicted.

How so? Consider:

• Other people (albeit "other" may mean relatives anyway) see to the day-to-day raising of your kids while you arrive in the evening and spend only a few hours of waking time with them
• You may not always be available to participate in school programs, however much you want to
• You may want to cook and bake stuff from scratch but there simply is not enough time and energy to spread around
• There is that niggling guilt that your children may suffer from your having a career of your own and not spending all day everyday with them.

The dividing line, although invisible, is a strong one, pressuring one into taking sides: who's the better mother, the abler provider? The SAHM may resent the working mother because she is pursuing her dreams and is professionally established and has a disposable income of her own. On the other hand, the working mom may be frustrated and jealous of the mother who stays home with the kids, simply because the latter has the time and presence that the former is unable to give because she is in the office all day.

But is that line really necessary? Does being a working mother mean one loves her children less? Does being a SAHM mean one should be taken less seriously than those who work?

I am a working mother myself, a chemical engineer who has worked from the time she graduated from university, with the exception of two counts of maternity leave. At this moment, my decision to pursue a career feels right to me. I am happy with using my talents and my skills in the professional world. I feel all the more fulfilled coming home at night knowing that I have done my best at work, and am now about to spend time at home to unwind with my family. I believe that I am a better mother because of it.

During my maternity leave a couple of months ago though, I experienced what it means to be a SAHM -- and it gave me a new perspective. It is not easy at all. Far from it. A SAHM needs to have a serious skill in multitasking, not to mention a deeper well of patience. I had this notion that I would just have endless lazy days reading and lounging around during my leave. Boy, was I proven wrong! And to think that my leave coincided with the summer school break, at that!

I have a lot of respect for stay-at-home moms. I have a lot of respect for working mothers. I have a lot of respect for those who work form home.

Whatever our choices, we make them in light of what we believe is best for our family at that time, in those specific sets of circumstances. We manifest our love for our children and our husbands and families in varying ways.

Whether we work or stay at home, whether we earn our own keep or keep house, at heart we are all the same.

We are Mothers, and we will always do the best we can.

Early Morning Solitude

It is 6:30 on a Saturday morning, and everybody else is still cozily bundled up in their blankets and holding fast to their dreams.

Friday nights are for staying up late with abandon, for voraciously reading the pile of books and magazines that lie around half-read, for staying glued to the tube and having DVD marathons, for aimlessly trolling the Net for bits of news here and there, for having late-night snacks with the little ones without worrying about the number of hours still left for slumber before another school/work-day begins again.

Saturday mornings are for sleeping in minus the guilt, for not needing any reason to lounge around in bed, for not having to give any excuse about still wearing the comfy pj's.

Saturday mornings are for simply... being.

And so even if I was woken up very early today (at around half-past 5) by a whimpering 5-month old looking for milk, even if I have not been able to reclaim my place in dreamland, I am content. For however long this quiet time of mine lasts today, I am thankful.

It has been almost 2 months since I last posted anything on this blog, what with going back to the office after my maternity leave, and work suddenly taking on a dizzying, whirlwind quality to it, that there simply was no time after going home, playing with the little ones, checking the schoolgirl's assignments, and just seeing to the myriad details of daily life. The little time left was spent reading a few pages here and there, or glancing through Facebook.

I have sorely missed putting down my thoughts onto paper (albeit an electronic version of it). And this unexpected blessing of an early morning alone-time came at just the right time.

I can hear numerous birds chirping merrily outside, interspersed with roosters crowing. The morning dew has not yet fully dissipated, and the air is still fresh with the promise of a new day. Apart from the low rumble of the odd vehicle passing along the main road, it is just so peaceful.

In the rush to prepare for every day, and race through it and do as much as we can with the limited time we have, there is almost no time left to sit in silence and contemplate the beauty of this world.

True, the worries that have niggled at us may still be there, but we can push them to the back-burners of our minds, even for a few moments. The problems of society will not magically disappear by us simply wishing them away.

But life is still beautiful. It may not be perfect, but there is indeed a lot to be grateful for.

So I take this early morning solitude of mine and offer up a heartfelt prayer of thanks.

Only God Can Make A Tree

One afternoon, after we arrived home from the office, my husband and I decided to walk around our neighbourhood. The greenery was very soothing after a tiring day. The different trees lining the road grabbed my attention. Good thing I had my camera along, so I snapped away happily.

For some reason, this tree has always held me fascinated. Maybe it's the way the tree's branches spread up and out, as if reaching up to the sky. Maybe it's the way the leaves are arranged (Side note: phyllotaxy is the way the leaves are arranged on a stem; Haha, I could not resist that!): not all bunched up together, but not too sparse either, still allowing for the sun's rays to come filtering in between its fingerlike branches.

When the light is right, I find the tree so hauntingly beautiful.

Growing Up Too Soon?

I am amazed at the variety of children's clothes available nowadays. When I was a kid myself -- which was not so very long ago -- I remember that frilly party dresses with puffed sleeves and lace were de rigeur for little girls. Fast forward to 2009: tube tops and halter dresses, mini skirts and spaghetti-strap sundresses, blouses with plunging necklines, slinky dresses -- anything that is all the rage for teens and adults now have miniaturized versions for kids, toddlers, babies even.

The simple T-shirt with shorts or pants or modest skirts for girls seem to have been relegated to the back burners of kiddie fashion. Sparkly bling-blings and shiny baubles complement the outfits of "fashion-forward" children. I find it quite outrageous and over-the-top at times. Why rush kids into growing up and all the pressures that come with it? Why not let them enjoy their innocence for a little while longer?

Their childhood will be gone before we know it. Let them act and dress like kids when they are still kids. There's time enough for growing up.

Jackfruits on the Road

The sight of overloaded jeepneys on Philippine roads is such a ubiquitous one, that we do not blink anymore at seeing these vehicles loaded with the occasional live chicken or pig, fresh vegetables and fruits, flowers, assorted appliances, and -- if there is still space amidst all of these -- people.

This picture of a jeepney with a cargo of jackfruits (langka) was taken one Saturday afternoon in Cavite. With the riders hanging on the external rails of the jeepney, one would wonder what they would do if the jeepney suddenly hit a freakishly deep pothole and suddenly send the jackfruits tumbling down -- would they (a) try to catch them in the hopes of making off with an ingredient for homemade halo-halo? (b) be good samaritans and chase after them at the risk of life and limb to hand them back to the owner? (c) avoid being hit on the face for fear of having their pores exponentially enlarged by the nasty-skinned things.

I think that a more probable response would be (d) adopt as nonchalant a face as possible and pretend that the hefty piles of langka were not raining down on them. After all, why let go of their hard-fought places hanging on to the estribo and risk others taking their place?

Leave the jackfruits to the pedestrians. To paraphrase something that Marie Antoinette may not have actually said anyway: Let them eat langka.

Hark, the Headlight...

Hark, the Headlight Angels Sing...

My little Angel had been singing Christmas songs lately, quite enthusiastically I might add. In her endearing, if somewhat off-key manner, she belted out in her bell-like voice such classics as Jingle Bells, We Wish You a Merry Christmas, Silent Night.

And the classic Hark, the Headlight Angels Sing.

I gave her the green light to go on singing.

Of Boob Jobs and Skin Flicks

Ha! Got your attention with the title didn't I? Nope, I did not get a boob job, nor do I have a penchant for watching skin flicks.

It's just that these seem to be two of the hottest topics in Philippine media lately -- the sex video scandals that have spawned quite a number of Hayden puns, and more recently, the alleged leaking breast implants of our country's Kumander-in-Tsip.

What the !#$%^&^?

The media has had quite a heyday with these topics, what with the prurient interest of the public fuelling newspaper and magazine sales, and Internet sites logging hits upon hits. And our esteemed lawmakers are not much better either: a privilege speech focusing on the Hayden (and hidden) videos when there are infinitely a lot more items needing advocacy in the august halls of the Senate. And of course, the latest question on whether leaking breast implants really played a role in GMA's stay at the Asian Hospital.

What about improving the social services available to Filipinos, like having hospitalization for the sick as a right instead of a privilege? Or being able to define who has jurisdiction on correcting the error-filled local textbooks in our schools? Or having clearer guidelines on fuel quality and vehicles so as to eliminate the numerous smoke belchers on the roads? Or extending maternity leave benefits, for that matter?

Of course, nip slips and boob jobs and video clips of local artistas rate a whole lot higher in drumming up interest than those items above. After all, they're oh-so-entertaining. So of course those items can be relegated to a lower rung at the moment, in favor of those currently highest in the Filipinos' consciousness. Strike while the iron is hot, right?

I'd rather strike the right iron.

101 Nights

Yep, you read it right, 101 without the extra zero in between. I didn't suddenly turn into Scheherazade, although I would certainly welcome that storytelling skill to lull my older daughter to slumberland!

Back to 101.

Today was my first day back in the office, and I had some bouts of separation anxiety from being away from my baby, with whom I had spent the last 101 days and nights. Yes, 101 days and nights of being with her almost 24/7, of being (almost always) within 20 feet of her, of being able to run and comfort her whenever she whimpered, or cried, or hungered for milk, or needed to be burped, or was sleepy, or just needed to be held and cuddled.

Or maybe it was I who needed to hold and cuddle her, to smell her milky-baby powdery-scent, to feel her head with its warm fuzzy hair nestled on my shoulder, for my own comfort. It was I who needed to gaze at her and wonder at the way her innocent eyes would look at me, I who wanted to see her whole face light up whenever I smiled at her and she would smile back and chuckle, with her dimpled left cheek and oh-so-happy gurgles ensuring that I was wrapped around her teensy little finger.

Things weren't so bad today though -- I was not on the phone calling home every hour, nor was I constantly obsessing over how my baby was doing every minute. Of course it helped that the office is just a 5-minute drive from our house, and that we even get to go home for lunch everyday. It's also comforting to know that we can go home in no time at all if there is an actual emergency (knock on wood!). And of course the flood of email messages and scheduled meetings and reports to accomplish took a large chunk of time as well.

All in all I actually think I did well.

Till tomorrow comes. And I start missing her again.

My To-Read Pile

What does your bedside table have? I'm guessing, a lamp, paper, pen, maybe a phone, a couple of books. I have pretty much the same things, although I had to make do with putting some of them in the drawer.

You see, I have a pile of unread and half-read books beside me. And the pile is still growing. I don't know when the pile will stop growing. I don't know if I want it to stop growing.

Yes, I admit it. I am a bookaholic. Always have been, always will be.

And that's why whenever I see new releases from my favorite authors (Paulo Coelho, Dan Brown, James Rollins, Daniel Silva, Matthew Reilly, Steve Berry, Jessica Zafra, John Maxwell, among others), or titles from genres I am partial to (travel and food writing, Da Vinci-code type novels, Arthurian legends, biographies, even some business books) I immediately head for the nearest bookstore. And yes, I do have membership cards for Fully Booked, Powerbooks, and National Bookstore.

And so the books keep on piling up, even as I try to make a dent at 2-3 books per week.

But I'm happy about it. As far as I'm concerned, the more books the better -- I've even catalogued the lot! I even have quite a number still in my parents' house. Our shelves are packed 2- and 3-deep now, but hey, I'm not complaining.

I think my habit has now rubbed off on my husband as well, since his side of the bed isn't too different from mine!

Our older daughter also has her own book stash, and her favorite mall destinations are now toy shops and, yup, you guessed it, bookstores.

Hmmm... I might just yet be able to build myself a proper library someday -- with mahogany or teak floor-to-ceiling shelves, leather-bound first editions, humidity control...

Hey, if you can dream, why not dream big, right?

Saturday at Sonya's

Last Saturday my husband, our older daughter and I went on a drive through Tagaytay and on to Alfonso, Cavite to have lunch at Sonya's Garden. Although I've been there a few times before, this was my daughter's first visit there, and being the lover of flowers that she is, I expected that she would love it there.

I have always felt a sense of serenity whenever entering Sonya's Garden, a feeling that one is leaving behind -- however fleetingly -- the hustle and bustle of everyday life. It could be because of all the plants that grow in seemingly wild, but ultimately beautiful, profusion, with vividly colored flowers splashing here and there through the green foliage. It could also be due to the muted gurgles of water flowing through various fountains in the garden. Or the wooden benches in cozy little nooks among the greenery that invite curious visitors to sit and stay awhile and just savor this little moment of peace.

Part of what I found quite charming in past visits were the mismatched china -- shabby chic indeed, and one gets a feeling that there are stories behind all the things that could be seen and touched in the place. Even the chairs were not always from the same set, and it somehow made me feel that I was in somebody else's quaint home and not just a commercial establishment where everything should be spanking new and shiny and glitzy. The rustic, yet elegant charm, just gets to me.

Over the years the business has expanded, and there are now more visitors patronizing the place, so much so that the dining area has been expanded. We were seated in one of the newer wings I believe, and I noticed that our china are now all part of the same set. Somehow it's just not the same, but the place still retains its charm.

We were met at the entrance by a friendly lady who led us to the dining area, even shading us with an umbrella from the heat of the noonday sun. The first table we were given though was right in the path of some of the plant sprinklers, so we would have been showered with little droplets all throughout the meal. Refreshing though it may have been, it was not what we had in mind. We were then led to another dining area, which was actually cozier and more to our taste.

Then the fun began.

The salad greens were brought in, together with the various accompaniments: grated eggs, chopped mango, broad beans, sliced cucumber, pineapple bits, diced papaya and melon, and thinly sliced singkamas. Of course, Sonya's Secret Dressing was served on the side.

Before digging in, as I was preparing to take out the hand sanitizer, my daughter had already made the acquaintance of the flower-scented water in her finger bowl -- and boy, did she love its smell! So much so that she wanted to sprinkle it all over her face as well.

We started in on the salad, and tried to entice the little one. And after much coaxing, she finally said yes... to the eggs! Oh, and she did get some melon cubes and mango as well, but that was it. Well, we did request for a second serving of the grated eggs for her.

Then came the bread -- the hot-off-the-oven, piping-hot, fragrant wheat-with-sesame bread. With it arrived a number of delicious dips: white cheese, mushroom pate, basil pesto, anchovies, black olive tapenade, and bruschetta tomato toppings. I tried them all and I loved the mushroom pate best.

The little finicky eater though agreed to try only the white cheese. Nothing else. Well, at least there was more of the other dips for my husband and myself!

The dalandan juice was very soothing to the palate. The three of us kept on chugging this refreshing drink to help keep the heat of the noonday sun at bay.

Next was the pasta, which was served with two kinds of sauces -- the sun-dried tomato and chicken in cream. I liked them both so well, I experimented with mixing the two sauces and was very satisfied with the combination! The toppings of crispy salmon belly, mushrooms, olives, capers, and ratatouille served to complete this course. A liberal sprinkling of parmesan cheese over everything, and I was set.

So what did our little girl have for this course? Nope, no toppings for her please. Neither did she want any sauce on her pasta. She opted for her very own concoction: mash the grated egg (remember, we asked for a second serving of this?) with some parmesan cheese, add it to the pasta, and put it on the bread as a filling. Yes, she had a pasta sandwich! Kids and their tastes...

After a leisurely meal, when the little one kept on asking for the camera so she could shoot pictures to her heart's content around the dining area, we waited for dessert. First came a slice of rich chocolate cake for each of us -- not too sweet, and the serving was not too overwhelming as well. Then came the turon with bananas and jackfruit, and glazed sweet potato. Tarragon tea was served on the side. Of course, the presence of chocolate cake was much welcomed by our daughter, who kept on giving us chocolate-smeared smiles afterwards.

We decided to take a stroll around, after that filling meal. Our little girl was so happy to be walking amidst flowers and plants she kept on skipping and hopping along. Here and there were some cozy nooks and benches for resting, fountains with softly burbling water, flowers floating on bowls. It was really quite relaxing.

On our way out we then passed by the Panaderia to get some Buddha de Oro (chewy butter cookie with chocolate batter in the center and a dollop of melted chocolate on top) and kalihim (the snack bread of my childhood, that soft bread with the sweetish red filling), as well as some multi-colored pastillas and chocolate tablea.

We also decided to try some alamid coffee, which is from cofee beans partially digested by the civet cat. It is said that the digestive enzymes of the civet cat affect the coffee beans and impart the taste and aroma that makes it one of the most sought-after in the world.

Quite ironic that the pricey coffee people put in their mouths actually owe its value to coming out of a cat's hiney, huh? What does it taste like? We have yet to open the jar.

All in all, it was a Saturday the three of us fully enjoyed.

Flowers for Papa

Our little angel was not able to prepare anything for her Papa on Father's Day last Sunday, and so the next day, right after she came home from school, she went to the yard, gathered quite a handful of different flowers, put them all in an empty ice cream container, and made a colorful "flower bowl".

It definitely made Papa's day.